


and i want you to know (that my feelings are true)

by moonlitserenades



Series: Otayuri Week 2017 [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Long-Distance Friendship, Or Is It?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9904547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlitserenades/pseuds/moonlitserenades
Summary: 5:21 amHey, did I leave that black hoodie with you the last time I was in Moscow?5:27 amthis one?[1 attachment]





	

I. 

_5:21 am_  
_Hey, did I leave that black hoodie with you the last time I was in Moscow?_

_5:27 am_  
_this one?_  
_[1 attachment]_

_5:29 am_  
_Keep it. It looks better on you._

II.

_9:03 am_  
_I hope it’s nicer where you are. Look what the rain did to my umbrella._  
_[1 attachment]_

_9:05 am_  
_omf o.O stay dry_

***

_**@otabek-altin** has tagged you in a photo_  
_Thanks for the new umbrella, **@yuri-plisetsky!**_  
_@yuri-plisetsky: welcome :3_  
_@christophe-gc: i especially like the rainbow tiger stripes_  
_@yuri-plisetsky: fuck off chris_

III.

12:04 pm  
sick af. gonna die.

12:04 pm  
What’s wrong??

12:05 pm  
have some kind of flu or smth. on strict orders from lilia not to leave bed. cant sleep. death approaches.

12:06 pm  
What do you need?

12:07 pm  
idk. what would u do about it anyway? were not even in the same time zone.

12:08 pm  
I don’t know. You’re not alone, are you?

12:09 pm  
no, lilia & yakov r here. arent u at practice?

12:10  
It’s a rest day. Which means I’m finishing in 20 minutes. Want me to watch a movie with you when I get home or something?

12:11  
omg yes.  
but i get to pick it.

This is how Yuri Plisetsky, 18-year-old Olympic silver medalist, ends up watching a Russian dub of “The Lion King” while skyping with his best friend, who is thousands of miles away. To Otabek’s credit, he doesn’t say “You look awful,” even though it’s true, or “Are you okay?” because clearly Yuri is not. He just makes appropriately sympathetic sounds whenever Yuri’s coughing or sneezing gets particularly bad, and when the movie is done, talks in the kind of low, soothing, constant stream of words designed to allow Yuri to drift off to sleep.

If Yuri receives an enormous care package three days later, full of teas, cough drops, honey, extra-soft tissues, a stuffed tiger, and even a small, carefully packaged container of Otabek’s mother’s homemade soup, well. So be it.

IV.

Yuri is all but bouncing in his seat as he listens to the phone ring (and ring, and ring). His borscht sits untouched in front of him, never mind that it’s already starting to get cold; truthfully, he’s already forgotten about it. He checks his phone for the third time, making an impatient sound. He and Otabek have been skyping on Wednesdays at this time for over a year. It isn’t like Beka to miss it without saying anything (as he had done the week before, citing a migraine, and the week before that, an important family dinner). So the point is, it’s been a while, and Yuri misses actually getting to see his best friend’s face. He hangs up. Calls again. This time, after only two rings, the call is answered, and Yuri blurts out, “Finally, you asshole, I’ve been calling forever,” before the grainy image on the screen resolves itself into Otabek’s older sister, Aliya. 

The blood drains from Yuri’s face. “Sorry.”

But if Aliya is fazed by his less than polite greeting, she doesn’t show it. “Hi Yura,” she says cheerfully, offering him a jaunty little wave. 

“Hi,” he replies, a little weakly. “Um, is Beka around?”

“He’s in the shower,” she announces. “I think he had a rough practice today. He should be out soon, though.”

“Okay.” He is silent for a long moment, and then, remembering himself, adds, “So uh. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m great,” she says, breezy. “Really great. Did Beka tell you I got a new job?”

“No, he didn’t. Congrats, what are you going to be doing?”

“Journalism.” Her eyes are sparkling, and she leans closer to the camera, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Mom is terrified, but I’m really looking forward to it. I get to travel and everything.”

“That sounds amazing,” says Yuri, and means it. “When do you start?”

“Oh, I have ‘pay my dues’ or whatever,” she throws a pair of lazy air quotes around the words, “so I probably won’t get to do anything exciting for a while, but I start on Monday.”

“That’s great, Aliya.” He sounds a little distracted even to himself; it’s odd for Otabek not to have mentioned something like this, at least in passing. And he’s defaulting by speaking the way Katsudon would, were he the one on the other end of this call.

His face must do something awful at that realization, because Aliya’s eyebrows inch up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “Hey, I’m going to be in Almaty in a few weeks. Are you going to be around?”

“Probably. You’re staying with us, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t told Beka yet. That’s why I was calling.”

“You’re staying with us,” she says, decisive. “Ugh, good, I can’t even handle him lately.”

“What? Is he okay?”

“He’s been in this weird funk, but he insists he’s fine. I’m sure it will be good for him to spend time with you.”

“Huh,” Yuri manages, because honestly, he doesn’t even know where to begin with that.

The door creaks open, and he hears Otabek say something in rapid Kazakh, too fast for Yuri to understand. Aliya turns away from the camera for a moment and says, “I’m talking with Yuri. He decided he likes me better because you keep skipping your skype dates.” She turns back to blow Yuri a kiss, waggles her fingers in a playful wave, and practically skips out of the room, Otabek talking quickly to her all the while. All of this happens so quickly that Otabek hasn’t even replied yet by the time she leaves, and it takes Yuri a moment to process what he’s seeing.

His first thought is that he’s glad that Aliya had at least been telling the truth about the whole shower situation. His second thought is holy shit. Because Otabek is standing in his dimly-lit bedroom, wearing nothing but a ratty blue towel wrapped carelessly around his waist, his broad, muscled shoulders glistening with water droplets from his still-wet hair, and--

And nothing, it’s nothing, God. People take showers all the time. Yuri is absolutely fine. Absolutely, unquestionably fine. Definitely.

“Yuri.”

He blinks, startled, and makes himself look at Otabek’s face. “Huh?”

Otabek’s answering smile is small. “I just said hi.” He tugs a t-shirt over his head. Yuri takes the opportunity to blink rapidly, attempting to clear his head.

“Hi.”

He sits in his recently vacated chair. “So what’s up?”

“I have a plane ticket to Almaty,” he blurts out, which was not at all how he’d planned to lead the conversation off. “In like two weeks. Is that...okay?”

Otabek smiles, sudden and bright, and it’s as though things Yuri hadn’t even realized were wrong snap back into place. “Yes.”


End file.
